


Counting the Days

by sara_wolfe



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Lois knows Clark's secret, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/sara_wolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A season nine AU. After the fight with Doomsday, Lois has disappeared, and Clark has retreated into the isolation of the Arctic. Three months later, Lois has reappeared, and Clark has been pulled back to Metropolis by his friends and family, but as hard as they try, their relationship has been fractured. And the rift keeps growing when Clark tries to protect Lois from his secret, and his feelings for her, until Lois gets fed up and takes an extended assignment on the other side of the world. Now, Clark has a year to win Lois over and show her how much she means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting the Days

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is AU after season eight.

**_Summer_ **

Surprisingly, it was Oliver who found him, three months into his self-imposed exile. The billionaire strode into the Fortress like he owned the place, which, Clark reasoned, was the way he entered most places. Still, he had to act like he cared, even a little bit. 

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" he asked, for form, not taking his eyes off the crystals glowing in the console in front of him. 

"Waste of my time," Oliver declared, shoving his hands into the pockets of his parka as he looked around. "Nice place you got here, Clark. Little translucent for my tastes…"

"You didn't come all this way to talk about my interior decorating choices," Clark interrupted, trying to hurry Oliver along. 

He wanted the visit to be over as soon as possible, so that he could go back to the quiet solitude that had filled his days until then. 

"No, I didn't," Oliver agreed. "But, if you ever decide you want to add some life to this place, I know some people."

Clark turned to face the other man for the first time, giving him an incredulous look, and Oliver grinned. 

"Got a rise out of you, didn't I?" he asked, his tone triumphantly smug. 

"Did you want something?" Clark asked, struggling to maintain his emotionless composure. 

He wanted Oliver to leave; wanted to go back to the numbness that had filled his whole body. He didn't like feeling annoyed at the other man. He didn't like feeling anything, these days. 

"I came to drag you back to Metropolis," Oliver informed him. "Kicking and screaming, if I have to." 

Clark snorted out a dry laugh, almost amused at the image that conjured up. 

"Chloe told you where I was," he guessed. 

"No," Oliver told him, "Sullivan told me about your overly-melodramatic exit from humanity, and I figured that this was where you'd go." 

"Well, you found me," Clark said, dryly. "Congratulations. You can leave now."

"Not until you're on that plane with me," Oliver said, stubbornly, and Clark glared at him. 

"Maybe you missed the part about why I'm here," he said, slowly, his voice measured. 

"No, I got that memo," Oliver said. "You're off playing the martyr, again."

"Jimmy is dead," Clark snapped, heat in his voice as he rose to his feet. "He's dead, and I didn't do anything to stop it." 

"Right," Oliver drawled, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. "It's not like you weren't busy fighting an indestructible monster, or anything. You're right, you absolutely should have been able to be in two places at once that night."

Clark advanced on Oliver, barely realizing what he was about to do until he saw his reflection in the crystals behind them, his face contorted in a mask of rage, his hand raised to strike his friend. Horrified, Clark stumbled backward, his arm dropping woodenly to his side. Oliver watched him as he sank to the icy floor, quiet compassion in his eyes. He hadn't flinched even once. 

"Jimmy is dead because Davis Bloom killed him," Oliver said, quietly, as he sat down as well, never taking his eyes off Clark. 

"I should have," Clark started, but Oliver cut him off. 

"We trapped him in that warehouse," he continued, relentlessly. "Me, Dinah, and Bart. Sullivan released him from Doomsday with black kryptonite."

"It was my plan," Clark protested, but Oliver just steamrolled right over him like he hadn't even spoken. 

"If we'd worked with you," he said, meeting Clark squarely in the eye, "if you'd been there, and not unconscious on the tracks thanks to my stupid ego, then you would have been able to contain Doomsday, and he wouldn't have gone on a rampage. We would have dealt with him, and with Davis, as a team."

"I still feel like I should have stopped it," Clark said, softly, his voice hollow. 

"You may be some kind of superman, Clark," Oliver told him, "but even you can't fix everything. We all made mistakes that night, big ones, and we all have to live with the consequences."

"Yeah, and the consequence is that Jimmy is dead," Clark said. 

"Yes, he is," Oliver said, surprising Clark. "But, turning your back on humanity, walking away from your life, that's not going to bring him back."

"I don't belong out there," Clark insisted, gesturing out at the expanse beyond the entrance to the Fortress. "I never have. And, besides, the world doesn't need me."

"Oh, that is just the biggest load of crap I've ever heard," Oliver snapped at him. 

Pulling a backpack from his back that Clark hadn't noticed him wearing, he unzipped the pocket and started pulling out scraps of newspaper. 

"Ninety year old woman pulled from burning building by red and blue angel," he read out loud, dropping the paper at Clark's feet. "Family of four swept off the freeway in their car when the driver had a seizure and swerved into the other lane. Military helicopter caught in midair after engine failure. Red-Blue Blur rushes boy to hospital three thousand miles away for heart transplant." 

Stopping in his recitation, he glared at Clark. 

"Do I need to go on?" he demanded. 

"They needed a hero," Clark said, persistently. "Not Clark Kent."

"I need Clark Kent," Oliver said, his voice intense, and Clark looked at him in surprise. "Dinah needs you. AC, Bart, Victor, Zatanna, your mother," he added, emphatically, "we all need you in our lives."

Clark still didn't look completely convinced, so Oliver played his ace in the hole. 

"Lois needs you," he continued, and Clark could feel himself shutting down. 

"Lois is gone," he said, tonelessly. 

"Not forever," Oliver said, confidently, and Clark shot him a dark look. 

"Don't you think I've looked?" he demanded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I've looked everywhere. For the last three months, all I've done is scour the planet. Lois isn't anywhere."

"She's somewhere," Oliver said, in that same infuriatingly calm tone. "We'll find her."

"How can you believe that?" Clark asked, quietly. 

"How can you not?" Oliver returned. 

Clark looked over at his friend and saw determination in his eyes. 

"We'll find her," Oliver repeated. " _You'll_ find her, Clark. I know you will."

Clark closed his eyes, rocked to his core by the unshakable, unwavering faith he heard in the other man's voice. He hadn't heard that from anyone since the last time he'd spoken to Lois. 

"Why are you doing this?" he finally asked. 

"You brought me back when I was teetering on the edge of my abyss," Oliver reminded him. "Now, I'm here to bring you home."

Standing, he held a hand out to Clark. After a moment, Clark took Oliver's hand and let the other man pull him to his feet. 

"The helicopter's right outside," Oliver told him as they walked out of the Fortress and into the freezing arctic winds. 

He stumbled in the face of the near-gale force winds, and Clark wrapped a hand around his arm to keep him on his feet. They dashed across the ice to the helicopter, Clark shielding Oliver from the wind with his body. 

"Before you know it," Oliver said, as they scrambled into the helicopter and Oliver climbed into the pilot's seat, "you'll be back home and back at work."

"I doubt after all this time that I still have a job," Clark replied, strapping himself into the copilot's seat. "Can you even fly this thing?"

"You want to walk back to Metropolis?" Oliver asked, archly. 

He moved the throttle forward, and the helicopter lurched into the air, buffeted by the wind. His hands on the controls were quick and steady, and he soon had the small aircraft flying smoothly, high in the air.

"Thanks to the merger I made with Tess," Oliver said, picking up their thread of conversation, "I own controlling interest in a majority of LuthorCorp holdings, including the Daily Planet. Trust me, you still have a job back in Metropolis."

It took them nearly thee days to fly from the arctic to Metropolis. When they finally arrived home, it was the middle of the night, and Oliver insisted on Clark using the guest room in his penthouse suite. 

"The better to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't go running back to that ice palace of yours," Oliver remarked, as he showed Clark the room. 

Clark shut the door behind him, and turned to see Shelby lying on the bed, wagging his tail eagerly when he saw Clark. 

"Hey, buddy," Clark crooned, sitting down next to his dog and running his fingers through his soft fur, touched by Oliver's thoughtfulness at making sure Shelby was well taken care of. "I guess I owe him a lot, don't I?"

He stayed awake for a little while longer, poking through the books Oliver had filled the bookcases with. But, finally, exhaustion caught up with him, and he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. And as he slept, he dreamt about Lois. 

**XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

The next day, Clark walked into the bullpen of the Daily Planet, hearing the raucous din bordering on chaos that filled the room. Walking over to his desk, he looked down at the space that remained exactly as he had left it three months ago. Lois's desk looked much the same, and for a second, he could almost pretend that everything was the same as it had been before Doomsday's attack. 

Then, as he looked around the room, he caught sight of Jimmy's old desk, currently occupied by the clutter of another photographer. Clark felt a pang of grief so sharp that it felt like he'd been stabbed. 

"Still seems hard to believe the kid's really gone," a voice spoke up from behind him, and Clark turned to see Ron Troupe standing behind him. 

"Good to have you back, Kent," Troupe continued, clapping a companionable hand on Clark's shoulder. 

"It's good to be back," Clark replied, surprised to find that he really meant the sentiment. 

He would have said more, but he was interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice near the elevators. 

"What year is it?"

Hardly daring to hope, Clark turned toward the sound of the woman's voice to see Lois standing near the elevators, holding a shocked Jeff Dublowsky by the shoulders. 

"What year is it?" the startled intern repeated, his voice coming out in a squeak, and Lois gave him a quick shake. 

"Focus, here," she snapped out. "What's the date?"

"August 25th, 2009," Clark called out, and Lois turned to face him, a wide grin breaking out over her face. 

"I'm home," she sang out, happily, and then she hurtled down the stairs to the bullpen to jump him and wrap her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. Clark returned the hug just as eagerly. 

"You're home," he agreed, quietly. "We're both home."

**_Fall_ **

Clark sped through the maze of buildings making up downtown Metropolis, following the sound of wailing sirens. He focused his hearing on the cops inside the police car, listening to their clipped, terse conversation. 

"…reports of a jumper on Fifth Street…"

Veering off, Clark took a shortcut down and alley and over a series of fences and smaller buildings. He reached Fifth Street, and headed down the street toward the sound of the voices of the people congregated around the building in question. Naturally, it just had to be the Luthorcorp building. 

Clark paused at the edge of the crowd, looking up at the roof of the building. Zeroing in on the small figure standing on top, Clark read the man's name badge still clipped to his chest. Jonathon Harding. 

Backing up into the shadows of the alley across from Luthorcorp, Clark spun into the costume he and Oliver had designed. His former nom de guerre of the Red Blue Blur notwithstanding, Clark still wasn't completely comfortable running around town in bright, primary colors. He wasn't too sure about the cape, either. 

But, he had to admit, it was helpful to be able to be summoned to an emergency when people could easily recognize him. And, thanks to a handy spell Zatanna had placed on a pair of glasses, he didn't have to worry about anyone connecting Superman with Clark Kent. Not unless he wanted them to know. 

Looking up at the building again, Clark gauged the distance to the roof where Harding paced back and forth anxiously, his arms wrapped protectively around his torso. He'd certainly jumped higher distances before, but this time he had to do it without scaring the guy so much that he jumped before Clark could stop him. 

_'Flying would probably come in handy right about now,'_ Clark thought, ruefully, and he could almost hear Kara teasing him about his stubborn inability to learn. 

Clark zipped forward, threading his way through the crowd. Once he reached the sidewalk, he jumped into the air, speeding toward the roof. Unfortunately, when he was only about halfway up the side of the building, Harding jumped off the roof, a look of absolute despair on his face. 

Cursing softly under his breath, Clark twisted in midair, willing himself to keep going up, even as gravity struggled to pull him down. He gained inch by precious inch, getting him closer and closer to Harding. When he was close enough, he reached out and snagged Harding by the front of his shirt, pulling the other man in and getting a tighter grip on him. 

They kept traveling up, even after Clark had grabbed Harding, and a few moments later, they landed on the roof, Clark feeling almost as shaky as Harding. But he made himself not show any of his emotions on his face as he turned to face Harding. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, and the other man nodded, wordlessly. 

"Why'd you do it?" Clark continued, when Harding remained silent. 

Harding stared down at his shoes for so long that Clark was afraid he wasn't going to answer, but then Harding looked up, meeting his eyes. 

"I have nothing left," he said, mournfully, anguish plain in his voice. "My wife wants a divorce, she's threatening to take my daughter away, I lost my job-"

"And the only option to fix everything was to kill yourself?" Clark asked, keeping his voice gentle. "How do you think your wife was going to explain that to your daughter?"

"I don't know," Harding said, his voice catching on a sob. "I didn't think – I can't – what am I going to do?"

"You're going to come downstairs where we're going to talk some more," Clark prompted, and Harding nodded, again. 

"I'll talk to your wife," Clark said, as they headed toward the rooftop entrance. "Maybe the two of you could go into counseling."

"That's what she wanted me to do," Harding said. "I wouldn't listen."

"Maybe it's time you should," Clark suggested, quietly. 

"Thanks, Superman," Harding said, after a long moment. 

"Anytime," Clark promised. 

**XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

Clark adjusted his glasses before he stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen, a nervous tic he'd picked up over the last three weeks. He'd spent the last couple of hours talking with Harding and his wife, and he had a feeling that the couple was on the way to a happy reconciliation. He was smiling when he headed toward his desk, but he stopped short, the smile falling from his face when he saw Lois packing the clutter on her desk into a box on her chair. 

"What are you doing?" Clark demanded, abruptly, not caring how he sounded. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Lois asked, grabbing her various press passes and dumping them into the box. 

"It looks like you're packing," Clark said slowly, struggling to keep his voice quiet and even. 

"New assignment," Lois said, breezily, not looking over at him. "Oliver proposed a new series of pieces written for different vacation spots, written on location."

"You don't write for the Travel section," Clark argued. "Why can't one of their reporters do this piece?" 

Lois brushed his concern off with a shrug. 

"They didn't want it," she said, shortly. "I did."

"Why?" Clark demanded, baffled. 

"Because I wanted to," Lois repeated. "I felt like a change of pace," she continued. "That's all."

Lois still wasn't looking at him, and Clark felt his frustration growing. 

"That's the only reason?" Clark asked, suspiciously. "There has to be more to it than that."

Lois glared at him. 

"I don't need your permission to go after a story, Kent," she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. 

"I never said you did!" Clark retorted, in exasperation. 

Lois glared at him, again, but then she relented, her fury evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. 

"I can't keep doing this, Clark," she said, tiredly. "I can't keep waiting for you to wake up and see what's been in from of your face the whole time. I won't keep waiting for you." 

"Lois," Clark protested, but she wasn't listening to him. 

"One minute you're hugging me like you're never going to let go," Lois continued, ignoring the curious looks people were shooting their way. "The next, you're acting like we barely know each other. I never know where I stand with you, anymore."

"I'm trying to protect you," Clark insisted, but he trailed off when Lois shook her head. 

"You keep saying that," she said, "but you never explain what you mean."

She stopped and gave him an expectant look, as though maybe this time he would talk to her. 

"I can't," Clark said, quietly, and Lois sighed. 

"This is exactly what I can't keep doing," she said, sounding suddenly tired. 

"How long are you going to be gone?" Clark asked, finally breaking the awkward silence that filled the space between them. 

Lois was silent for a long moment, and Clark started to get nervous about the way she wouldn't meet his eyes. 

"Six months," she finally answered. "A year, at the most."

"A year," Clark echoed, feeling as though the floor had just dropped out from underneath him. "You're leaving me for a year."

"It's not like I'm not coming back," Lois said, impatiently, rolling her eyes in exasperation. 

"You're still leaving," Clark said, and his voice sounded petulant even to his ears. 

"Yes," Lois said, simply, "I am."

She looked at him for a long moment, obviously waiting for him to say something, and when nothing came she grabbed the box from her chair and started toward the elevator. Clark felt his chest seize up in panic at the sight of her retreating back. She couldn't leave now, not when he'd just gotten her back. 

"You can't leave!" Clark snapped out, ignoring the way the room fell silent at his sudden outburst. 

"Why not?" Lois asked, turning back to him, a challenging note in her voice. "Give me one good reason, Clark, why I should stay here."

Clark stared at her, unable to speak. He knew what he needed to say, what he wanted to say, but the words were frozen on the tip of his tongue. After several long seconds, Lois nodded sadly, a disappointed look on her face. 

"Yeah," she said, softly, "that's exactly what I thought."

She headed back toward the elevator, and Clark stood rooted to the spot, helplessly watching her go. 

"See you in a year, Smallville," she said, and then she walked out the door. 

_**Winter** _

_Dear Clark,_

_London is beautiful this time of year. I'm staying with my cousin while I write this…_

"Superman! Superman!"

Clark smiled despite his melancholy, and landed on the sidewalk as a group of excited kids rushed toward him from the school playground. 

"Sorry about this, Superman," the teacher apologized, following the kids. 

"It's no problem," Clark assured the young woman. 

He crouched down to the kids’ level, listening to their eager chatter as they all talked over each other in their haste to be heard. He grinned at their teacher, sharing in her indulgent smile, and then he heard the first request for autographs. 

"Um," Clark said, and, seeing the baffled look on his face, the teacher took pity on him. 

"Let's go back to the playground, everyone," she suggested. "I'm sure Superman is very busy and has a lot he has to do."

"No!" came the immediate protest, and the kids turned their disappointed expressions on him. Clark could feel his resolve weakening at the sight. 

"Maybe I could sign a couple of autographs," he capitulated, and the teacher gave him a grateful look. 

"You've just saved me from being the mean teacher who scared away Superman," she joked, and Clark smiled as he scrawled his alias on the back of a boy's sweatshirt. 

He didn't get away for another twenty minutes, and even then it was only because he'd heard sirens in the distance. He responded to the emergency, a fire in the boiler room of an apartment building, and then went back to the Planet to write up the story. 

Clark got the story written up in record time and sent it to the printer to read over. He always worked better with the hard copy for editing. Coming back to his desk, he got a jolt at the sight of a plain, cardboard box sitting on Lois's desk, and his heart leapt with excitement. Then, he saw the name plate sticking up out of the box, and when he picked it up he saw the name: John Corbin.

"Hey, do you mind?" came a brisk voice from behind him, and Clark turned to see a young man standing behind him, an impatient look on his face. 

When Clark didn't move, Corbin reached out and plucked his name plate out of Clark's hands. 

"You're blocking my desk," he said, shortly.

"This desk is already taken," Clark told him. "Pick another one."

Corbin snorted in disbelief. "Looks empty to me, champ," he said, moving around Clark to place his name plate in a prominent position in the center of the desk. 

"There's already someone at this desk," Clark repeated, grabbing Corbin's name plate and dumping it back in the box with the man's other things. 

"I don't see anyone else's name on it," Corbin said, crossing his arms over his chest, a challenging look on his face. 

"Trust me," Clark gritted out, hating the smug look on the other man's face. "It's taken."

"Find another desk, Corbin," a new voice spoke up, before Corbin could say anything to Clark. 

Turning, Clark saw Oliver standing off to the side, watching the whole thing. 

"This one's empty," Corbin said, mulishly, now more for show than anything else. 

"Find another desk," Oliver repeated, and from the tone in his voice, both men knew that the conversation was over. "Clark, I'd like to talk to you in my office."

He turned and walked away without waiting for Clark, and Clark followed a moment later after making sure that Corbin had grabbed his box of stuff and moved to another desk across the bullpen. Going into Oliver's office, Clark shut the door behind him and sat in the chair Oliver indicated with a sharp jerk of his head. 

"You're an idiot," Oliver said, without preamble, and Clark raised his eyebrows in shock. 

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, incredulously. 

"Do you know why I sent Lois on that assignment around the world?" Oliver asked him. 

"Because she's a good reporter," Clark said, defending Lois's talent in the face of Oliver's skepticism. 

"Because I was hoping you'd finally get the courage to tell her the truth," Oliver said, and Clark shook his head. 

"It's too dangerous," he protested, automatically. "She could get hurt if she knew."

Oliver rolled his eyes at him in exasperation. 

"In case you haven't noticed," he told Clark, "Lois is perfectly capable of finding trouble by herself, with or without your help."

"If she knew, and someone found out that she knew," Clark argued, but Oliver cut him off. 

"That's an excuse and you know it," he said, bluntly, and Clark was reminded of Lois, and how she never let him get away with self pity. 

"When are you going to get off your butt, chase her down, and tell her you love her?" Oliver continued. 

"I don't-" Clark protested, weakly, and Oliver snorted out a laugh. 

"You're not going to be able to keep lying to yourself much longer," he said.

**XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

When he pulled into the driveway of the farm after work, Shelby came running out of the barn, eager to greet him. The dog jumped on his chest as he got out of his truck, and Clark ruffled the fur behind his ears. Walking back up the drive, he got the mail out of the bright red box, flipping through the envelopes looking for one particular piece of mail. 

There it was. A small postcard covered with Lois's distinctive handwriting. A picture of the London Eye overlooking the Thames graced the front of the postcard. Eagerly, Clark flipped the postcard over, savoring every word. Then, he tucked the postcard away in his jacket pocket, heading into the house. Inside, he put the postcard up on the fridge with the others Lois had sent him; the fourth so far, along with ones from New York, Scotland, and Ireland. 

Clark fixed himself dinner, and then turned on the television, flipping through the news channels, looking for anything that required his attention. Then he stopped the remote, staring in horror at a story in progress. The picture on the screen was of Big Ben, a smoking hole in the middle of the clock's face. 

He sped out the door without waiting to hear any details, streaking through the air in the direction of London. He poured on the speed as he flew, and he landed in Westminster a few minutes later, hearing the high-pitched whistle of bombs dropping around him. 

"Superman!" someone shouted, and Clark turned to see Lois pushing her way through the panicked crowds of people, a grim look on her face. 

"Have you heard?" she demanded, and Clark shook his head. 

"I just saw the hole in the clock," he told her. "What's going on?"

"Terrorist attack," Lois said, tersely. 

She broke off when a woman pushed her way to their side, her eyes going wide when she saw Clark. 

"Oh, my – Superman," she breathed, reverentially. 

"Superman, this is my cousin, Louisa," Lois introduced them, quickly. "Louisa, Superman."

"Nice to meet you," Clark said, shaking the other woman's hand, quickly. "Lois, you need to get to safety."

"Not a chance," Lois retorted. "This is the story of a lifetime, and you know it."

"Lois," Clark protested. 

"You're as bad as Clark," Lois told him, rolling her eyes. 

"Just – stay here," Clark ordered, flying away before Lois could reply. 

"Six months he's known me, you think he'd know better than that by now," he heard Lois say from behind him. 

"I can't believe you know Superman," Louisa said, excitedly, and then Clark tuned everything out to focus on the bombers attacking London. 

He zipped around in the air, catching the bombs being dropped by the planes before they could hit their targets. Then, focusing his heat vision, he drilled holes into the planes, cutting lines and burning out the engines, forcing the pilots to make emergency landings. He rounded up the pilots as they bailed out of their downed planes, handing them over to the local authorities, who expressed their gratitude for his help. 

"Superman Stops Terrorist Attack," Lois said, from behind him, as he watched as the pilots were led away in handcuffs. 

"Weren't you supposed to be somewhere safe?" he asked, turning to face her, and Lois shot him an incredulous look. 

"No offense, Superman," she said, "but if that doesn't work coming from Clark, it's not going to work from you."

"Lois," Clark started, reminded of his earlier conversation with Oliver. "Lois, there's something we need to talk about."

"Can it wait?" Lois asked, stifling a yawn behind her hand, and for the first time, Clark noticed that it was the middle of the night. 

"What time is it?" he asked. 

"After midnight," Lois told him. "One thirty-seven, to be precise," she added, looking down at her watch. "Forgot about the time difference?" she teased. 

"Yeah," Clark admitted, ruefully. 

"So, is it important?" Lois asked, and when Clark looked at her in confusion she clarified, "what you wanted to talk about?"

"Not really," Clark said, feeling his resolve crumble at the sight of Lois's expectant face. "I – I should probably get going, anyway," he continued, stammering nervously. 

"Right," Lois said, and her tone sounded slightly disappointed. "Wait!" she called out, when Clark turned to leave. 

"How's everything back home?" she asked, when Clark turned back to face her. 

"Everything's good," Clark said, and Lois nodded. 

"How – how's Clark?" she asked, quietly. 

"Clark's doing well," Clark said, feeling weird about talking about himself in the third person. "He – he misses you." 

As he turned to fly away, he almost missed Lois's quiet whisper from behind him. 

"I miss him, too."

**XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

**_Two months later:_ **

"You should be careful, Superman," Lois said, a teasing grin on her face. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me."

"Maybe I am," Clark said, lightly, and Lois laughed, her smile lighting up her whole face. 

"So, how'd you find me this time?" Lois asked, curiously. 

"Aren't you worried about that collapsing?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject, not wanting to admit that he'd been tracking Lois with her heartbeat for the past two months. 

"The Great Wall of China has survived intact for thousands of years," Lois told him, wryly. "I don't think it's going to fall apart because I sat on it."

"How'd you even get out onto this section, anyway?" Clark asked, looking around. "I don't see any other tourists around here."

"Perks of being the General's daughter," Lois replied. "General Li-Shen is an old friend, and when I told him about the series of articles I'm working on, he offered to let me out in this section to take some pictures of the valley."

"Have you gotten any pictures of the Wall, itself?" Clark asked, but Lois shook her head. 

"Kind of hard when I'm on foot," she said, regretfully.

"Do you want to go flying?" Clark asked, and Lois looked at him in surprise. 

"Flying?" she repeated.

"For – for your story," Clark stammered, nervously. "Clark told me what you're working on, and this way you could get some pictures of the Wall – I could take you to see the whole thing if you want-"

"Okay," Lois said, interrupting his wild rambling. "I'd love to go flying with you." 

Stepping closer to him, she wrapped her arms around Clark's neck, stepping up onto his feet. Holding Lois around the waist, securely, Clark gently floated upward and out over the valley. They flew for hours, stopping every so often for Lois to snap a group of pictures. And they talked, Clark treasuring the feeling of being closer to Lois than he had for a very long time. He just wished she felt comfortable enough to open up to him as Clark, and not just as Superman. 

_'It is my own fault,'_ he reflected, regretfully. _'If I hadn't been so insistent about keeping Lois in the dark, who knows where we might be now?'_

"Penny for your thoughts," Lois said, quietly, and Clark looked down at her. 

"Just thinking," he said. "Nothing important."

The look on Lois's face said that she didn't believe him, but, thankfully, she didn't pursue the matter further. 

After nearly half an hour more, Clark flew back to the spot where he'd first found Lois. They landed, and Clark reluctantly released his hold on Lois's waist. She stepped away from him, a small smile on her face, trying fruitlessly to push her windblown hair back away from her eyes. 

A small piece kept escaping her grasp to fall down beside her face, and without thinking about it, Clark reached out and gently brushed the lock of hair back behind her ear. At his touch, Lois jerked, a startled look on her face. Impulsively, Clark leaned down to kiss Lois. His lips had just barely brushed hers when he felt her hand on his chest gently pushing him away, and he saw her shaking her head with regret on her face. 

"I can't do this," she said, and she sounded a little bit sad. "I'm sorry, Superman. I just can't."

"There's someone else," Clark said, flatly, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

"Yeah," Lois said, and a small smile graced her features. "There's someone else."

"Anyone I know?" Clark asked, trying to keep things light. 

"It's Clark, actually," Lois admitted, after a long moment of silence, and Clark just about felt his eyes pop out of his head. 

"Clark?" he repeated, stunned. 

"Don't tell me you're jealous," Lois teased, but there was a strange expression on her face that Clark couldn't decipher. 

"I'm not jealous at all," Clark said, quickly. _'There's nothing to be jealous of,'_ he thought, wryly. _'Except myself.'_

"I should be getting back," Lois told him, breaking into his thoughts. 

"I could give you a lift back," Clark offered, before she could leave. 

"It's okay, I can walk," Lois said, shrugging. "It's how I got out here."

"Isn't it dangerous?" Clark pressed, worried. 

"I'm perfectly safe," Lois reassured him. "Besides, you'll catch me if I fall, won't you?"

There was an odd, intense look in her eyes, and Clark swallowed, nervously. 

"Always," he promised, hoarsely. 

_**Spring** _

The sound of a horn blaring outside sent Shelby into a wild frenzy, barking and skidding on the kitchen floor as he bolted outside. Clark jogged out behind him, and then stopped short at the sight of Oliver's convertible parked in the middle of the driveway. 

The horn sounded again, a long blast, and Clark frowned as the driver's window was obscured by something yellow. Crossing the driveway to Oliver's car, Clark pulled the door open, then stepped back as a gangly puppy tumbled out, closely followed by Oliver. As the puppy sprinted across the driveway to jump on Shelby, barking madly, Oliver looked up at Clark from where he was sprawled on the ground. 

"I'm begging you," he said, a slightly desperate tone in his voice. "Take him."

"How did you wind up with a dog?" Clark asked, stifling his laughter as he helped Oliver to his feet. 

"Mara Shaunessy in Accounting got the dog for her kid, and it turns out he's allergic," Oliver replied. "She asked me if I knew anyone who wanted a dog-"

"And naturally, you thought of me?" Clark asked, wryly. 

"Actually, what I thought was 'how much trouble could one dog be?'" Oliver admitted. 

"Uh huh," Clark said, biting back a grin. 

"He ruined the couch, the carpet, scratched up two doors, chewed up two pairs of very expensive shoes-" Oliver trailed off, shaking his head in exasperation. "I never had a dog as a kid; I thought it would be fun," he grumbled. 

"And now you'd like me to take the dog and save what's left of your apartment," Clark finished. 

"Please," Oliver said, pleadingly. "That mutt is driving me insane."

Clark looked over at the puppy who was running in circles around Shelby, skidding on the gravel of the driveway. Then, seeing him, the puppy changed direction and barreled toward him as fast as his legs could carry him. Slamming to a stop in front of Clark, the puppy jumped at him, tongue lolling out as he panted. When Clark scratched gently behind his ears, the puppy collapsed bonelessly against him, gazing up at him adoringly. 

"What's his name?" Clark asked, knowing when he was outmatched. 

"Sherlock," Oliver answered. 

"Sherlock?" Clark echoed, doubtfully. 

"Mara's kid is a big reader," Oliver told him. "He loves mysteries."

"What am I going to do with two dogs?" Clark asked, rhetorically, and Oliver grinned, clapping him on the back. 

"Thanks, man," he said, and Clark shot him a withering look. 

"You owe me," he told the other man. 

Before Oliver could say anything, the sound of a truck engine had both dogs rocketing toward the end of the driveway. Clark turned to see the mail truck stopping in front of the box, and then the driver pulled away a few seconds later, leaving Shelby to trot back to Clark with the mail in his mouth, Sherlock bouncing alongside him. 

"Good boy," Clark praised Shelby, taking the mail from the dog. 

As was becoming routine, Clark flicked through the pile, ignoring everything in favor of the small postcard he found in the middle of the stack. 

"Are those the pyramids?" Oliver asked, reading the postcard over Clark's shoulder. 

"Looks like Lois is in Egypt," Clark commented, taking in the date in the corner of the postcard. 

"That wasn't one of the stops on Lois's itinerary," Oliver said. "I didn't authorize a stop there."

"You did now," Clark said, grinning. "You know, at this pace you've set for Lois, she's going to cover a lot of ground by the time the year is over."

"That's the whole point of the article," Oliver said. "Of course, if you've changed your mind, I could always call her home early."

"I have my reasons for not telling Lois," Clark said, stubbornly, and Oliver rolled his eyes. 

"They're crap," he said, bluntly. 

"I'm trying to protect Lois," Clark protested. 

"Yeah, we're not rehashing that again," Oliver told him. "Go to Egypt; you know you want to."

Clark glared at Oliver; Oliver just stared implacably back. Finally, Clark grumbled something under his breath. 

"What was that?" Oliver asked, courteously, not even bothering to hide his smirk. 

"Where is Lois staying?" Clark repeated, grudgingly. Oliver held up a finger, dialing his cell phone and talking to someone for a few seconds. 

"Hotel Alexandria," Oliver replied, after he'd hung up, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. 

As Clark took off into the sky, not even hesitating, he heard Oliver call after him, "I'll watch the dogs for you!"

Clark poured on the speed as he flew, cities flashing by beneath him. He paid no attention to his surroundings; he just honed in on the sound of Lois's heartbeat and flew toward her. He landed on a third floor balcony, and listened, hearing Lois inside. He had just stepped through the open glass doors and into the room when there was a knock at the door. 

"Room service," a muffled voice called out, and then the door slowly creaked open and a man in a bellhop's uniform walked in with a cart. 

Clark had shot up into the air, hovering at the ceiling so that the man couldn't see him, and watched as the man silently took the silver cover off a large dish, revealing a gun with a silencer on the end. The man picked the gun up and crept toward the closed door of the bathroom, where Clark could hear water running inside. 

Clark floated back down to the floor and then across the room, hovering above the carpet. He didn't want to make any sudden moves because he knew, as fast as he was, he didn't want to test his speed against a bullet when Lois's life was on the line. But, before he could reach Lois's attacker, the man had slowly eased the bathroom door open, stepping into the steam-filled room. 

Abandoning his silent tactics, Clark rushed the room just in time to hear a loud crash. Entering the bathroom, he stopped short at the sight of the man lying in a crumpled heap on the wet tile, Lois standing over him with the shower head in her hands. A very short towel was wrapped around her waist, and Clark took a quick, appreciative glance before forcing himself to look only at Lois's face. 

"Are you all right?" he demanded. 

"I'm fine," Lois told him, prodding her would-be attacker with a bare foot. 

"That seems to be an effective tactic for you," Clark said, nodding at the shower head, remembering the time she'd nearly attacked him in his own bathroom. Lois shot him a curious look, and Clark felt himself start to panic as he realized that Superman couldn't possibly know something like that. "I – I mean," he stammered. 

"Been talking to Clark?" Lois suggested, lightly. 

She grabbed a cup off the sink and filled it with water, splashing her attacker with it. The man sputtered and choked as he jerked back to consciousness, and Lois gave him a jaunty wave. 

"Welcome back, sunshine," she said, sarcastically. "Are you going to tell me why you tried to kill me?"

"I'm not going to let some nosy American reporter screw up my plans," the man snarled, and Lois snorted out a laugh. 

"I don't even know you," she told the man. "Why would I want to screw anything up? Who are you?"

"Everyone knows who I am," the man said, scornfully, a hint of pride in his voice. 

"Humor the nosy American reporter," Lois told him, the tone in her voice making it clear it wasn't a request.

"I am Ben al-Jazir," the man announced, proudly. 

Lois shook her head, looking at Clark in confusion. He shrugged, having never heard the name either. 

"Ben al-Jazir," the man stressed, and when neither of them said anything, he blurted out, "I'm the one with the plot to assassinate the President!"

"I'm sure the police will be very interested in hearing that," Lois commented. "What do you think, Superman?"

"I'm still interested in why he came after you in the first place," Clark said, crossing his arms and giving al-Jazir his most imposing glare. 

"Because of you," al-Jazir answered blithely, and Clark felt his blood run cold. 

"What?" he demanded, bending over and hauling al-Jazir off the floor by his shirtfront. "What do you mean it's because of me?"

His voice came out in a snarl, and the edges of his vision were going hazy as he glared at al-Jazir. 

"Everyone who reads the Daily Planet can see how close you and Lane are," the man wheezed, his face turning red from Clark cutting off his air. "I know why Lane came to Egypt, so if something happened to her, you wouldn't be able to stop me from my mission."

"We stopped you, anyway," Lois broke in, interrupting the man's rambling tirade. "We stopped him," she repeated, firmly, locking gazes with Clark and uncurling his hands from al-Jazir's shirt, forcing him to let go. "It's time to let the police handle things."

"Right," Clark agreed. "Okay."

He released his crushing grip on al-Jazir, then pulled the towel bar off the wall and twisted it into a pretzel shape around the man's wrists. 

"Can you go call the police?" Lois asked. "I want to get the water mopped up in here."

"Yeah," Clark agreed. "And, you probably want to get dressed, too."

Lois froze, then seemed to remember that she was standing in the middle of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a towel. 

"Right," she agreed, faintly. "I – I'm going to go get dressed, now."

She slipped past Clark to grab her clothes from where they were strewn haphazardly on the bed, and then ducked back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Clark resisted the very strong urge to x-ray through the door, turning instead to al-Jazir who was still sitting on the floor with his hands wrenched awkwardly behind his back. 

"You never should have made an attempt on her life," he informed the man, coldly. 

"What are you going to do?" al-Jazir sneered, looking up at Clark looming over him. "You don't hurt people."

"No," Clark agreed, "but I can make sure you spend the rest of your life in a tiny, rat-infested cell, rotting away where no one will ever find you."

"No, you can't," Lois said, from behind him. 

He turned to face her, and saw her dressed in jeans and a faded, flannel shirt. He did a double-take when he recognized the shirt she'd swiped from his closet years ago. 

"Just call the police, Superman," she said, crossing the room to stand in front of him. "Let them deal with him. And then let it go."

"You could have died," Clark stressed. 

"I don't even have a scratch on me," Lois told him. "I'm fine. I promise." Then, she huffed out a breath and added, "And I'm certainly not going to let you throw away everything that makes you who you are for me."

"Then for who?" Clark asked, too quietly. When Lois didn't say anything, he tried a different tack. "Are you offering to be my moral compass?"

"You don't need one," Lois said. "Just a little nudge now and then."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

**_One month later:_ **

Clark hovered over the Eiffel Tower, anxiously, looking down at Lois as she looked over the city. He wanted to go down and join her, so much that it hurt, but he couldn't help remembering the near-miss from Alexandria. He just couldn't take the chance that Lois was going to get hurt because of him. 

"I know you're up there," Lois called out, suddenly, and Clark looked down to see her staring up at him. 

"You're up late," he said, hastily, covering. "Couldn't sleep?"

Lois had a smile on her face as she looked up at Clark, and Clark was staggered by the emotional gut-punch that hit him when he saw her framed by the lights on the Tower. 

_'Oliver's right,'_ he realized, with a start, as he drifted down to join her on the observation deck. _'I am in love with Lois.'_

"-best time to see the city," he heard Lois saying, and he snapped back to attention just in time to see her looking at him with an affectionate, exasperated look on her face. 

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" Lois asked, her voice teasing. "It's like you're a million miles away."

"Sorry," Clark apologized, deciding against trying to sweet-talk his way out of it. Lois just shook her head in exasperation. 

"As I was saying," she repeated, pointedly, "Oliver was telling me that the best time to see Paris is at midnight from the top of the Eiffel Tower."

"It is beautiful out here," Clark agreed. 

Lois leaned against the railing, wrapping her arms around her torso as a brisk wind started to blow through the observation deck. 

"Here," Clark said, unhooking his cape from the back of his suit and handing it to her. Lois flashed him a grateful smile as she wrapped the red material around her shoulders. 

"Thanks," she said, softly. 

"What are friends for?" Clark asked, as they both looked out at the view. 

"I'm really glad you're here with me, Clark," she said, after a few minutes of standing in silence. 

Clark looked at her in surprise, but Lois was still looking out at the lights illuminating Paris below them. 

"How did you know?" he asked, trying not to panic. 

"Little things," Lois said, with a shrug. "Things you said, the way you acted. When you tried to kiss me in China," she added, teasingly. "I'm a reporter. It's my job to put clues together."

"So, you've known for months, now," Clark said, slowly. 

"Ever since Egypt," Lois told him. "I think we should talk about this." 

"Like why I didn't tell you," Clark hazarded a guess. 

"Among other things," Lois said, lightly. 

"All right," Clark agreed. "I didn't tell you because I was trying to protect you."

"Oh, not this again," Lois groaned, and Clark glared at her. "Clark, I don't need you to protect me," Lois continued, stubbornly. 

"Right," Clark snapped, exasperated. "What would you call what happened in Egypt, then?"

"Something I handled on my own," Lois snapped. "Before you came along, as I recall."

"You shouldn't have had to handle it," Clark protested. "Lois, some crazy lunatic tried to kill you because of me."

"And I doubt that's the last time it's going to happen," Lois retorted, angrily. "What are you going to do, Clark? Pretend we're just strangers?"

"It'd be safer that way," Clark snapped. "At least then I wouldn't be worrying about people trying to kill you."

"I hate to break it to you," Lois informed him, "but I've got people coming after me for other reasons than just you."

"You're actually proud of that fact, aren't you?" Clark asked, incredulously. 

"In our line of work, you make enemies," Lois stated. "You can't protect me from every one of them by turning into an emotional hermit."

"I can't talk to you when you're being irrational," Clark shot back, and Lois shook her head. 

"I'm being irrational?" she echoed. "You're the one throwing up walls and _I'm_ being irrational?"

"I'm trying to keep you safe!" Clark shouted, furiously. 

"Well, I don't need you to!" Lois yelled back. "Why do you even care, anyway?"

"Because I'm in love with you!" Clark exploded. 

Silence fell like a curtain between them and they glared at each other. Clark was the first to look away. The sound of a screaming siren split the tension in the air, and they both glanced automatically down at the street where the sound was coming from. 

"You should go," Lois told him, as he watched the ambulance speed down the street. 

Clark nodded. "Are we going to finish talking about this?" he asked, quietly. 

"I don't know," Lois replied, sounding very tired all of a sudden. "Just go, Clark. Save the world." 

_**Summer** _

_I'm coming home…_

Clark stared at the three words that were the only thing written on an otherwise-blank postcard. She hadn't even signed it. He looked inside the mailbox but there was nothing else there, just that frustratingly-worded message from Lois. 

Clark willed himself not to get too excited; just because Lois said she was coming home didn't necessarily mean coming back to Smallville. She was probably still too mad at him for that. For all he knew, she'd already found a new apartment in Metropolis. 

He looked up at the sound of a dog's eager, bright bark, and he saw Sherlock racing out of the barn, legs flying like crazy over the ground. Clark hurriedly shoved the postcard into the back pocket of his jeans so that it wouldn't get ruined by the overexcited dog, and braced himself for the impact that was coming. 

Sherlock threw himself at Clark at full speed, launching himself through the air and into his arms. Clark caught the dog with a grunt, laughing as the mutt squirmed around in his arms to slobber all over his face. 

"Don't you have any dignity?" he demanded of the half-grown dog.

In answer, Sherlock squirmed again, this time to get down, and Clark watched, bemused, as he raced into the barn the second his feet hit the dirt, skidding along the ground as he ran. Clark followed at a slower pace and watched Sherlock take the stairs up to the loft two at a time, nearly falling back down them in the process. 

He went up the stairs to see what was so interesting to the dog, and found himself frozen at the top of the stairs, completely unable to move. Sherlock had stopped his wild run beside the old couch that was up there and Shelby was lying on the floor in front of it. And stretched out on the couch, dead to the world, was Lois. 

For a second he thought he was hallucinating, and he just stared at Lois, afraid that if he looked away that she would disappear on him. Then, slowly, he made his way over to the couch and reached down to gently brush his fingers over her cheek, just to reassure himself that she was really there. 

Unfortunately, that was also when Sherlock chose to make his move, and the ungainly puppy lunged forward to bathe Lois's face with kisses. She jerked awake at the sensation and bolted upright, rapping her head sharply against Clark's outstretched hand. 

"Ow," she mumbled, sinking back down and throwing an arm over her face to protect herself from Sherlock's tongue. "Damn dog."

Embarrassed, Clark hooked an arm around Sherlock and dragged him backward, away from Lois, depositing him on the other side of the loft. With a firm command to stay that he knew wasn't going to be obeyed, Clark turned around to see Lois watching him, a slight smile on her face. 

"Sorry," Clark apologized, wincing as he saw her wiping drool off her cheeks. "When he left the dog with me, Oliver didn't tell me that he's only got two speeds: unconscious and Mach One."

"Sorry about falling asleep on your couch," Lois said, as she sat up. "I wanted to talk to you; I guess jet lag caught up with me."

"You wanted to talk," Clark echoed, nervously. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I think you have an idea," Lois said, a wry smile on her lips. 

"How mad are you?" Clark asked, resigned to what was bound to be an uncomfortable conversation. 

"Oh, I was pissed at first," Lois told him, and Clark winced. "But," she continued, a moment later, "after I had some time to think about it, I stopped being so mad."

"You're not mad," Clark repeated, disbelievingly. 

"Do you want me to be mad at you?" Lois asked, arching an eyebrow. 

"Not especially," Clark told her. "But, why aren't you mad? Anyone else would be. Lana, Chloe-"

"I'm not Lana," Lois interrupted him, quietly. "I'm not Chloe. I'm just me."

"That's what scares me," Clark admitted, honestly. 

"You never came back that night," Lois continued. 

"I think I was running away," Clark told her. 

"Why?" Lois asked, clearly confused. 

"Because you didn't," Clark answered, looking away from her to stare out of the loft window. 

When Lois didn't say anything, Clark turned back around to see her looking at him, a curious look on her face. 

"Except for my parents," Clark started, needing to explain, needing Lois to understand, "everyone who's ever found out about me has changed. They look at me like I'm different. They remind me that, no matter how hard I try, I'll never be human. Either I'm a freak, or a lab rat, or a savior-"

"Check that ego, Smallville," Lois chided, gently, and Clark smiled at her. 

"Except for you," he said, getting to the point. "With you, I'm just Clark Kent. Just Smallville."

"Well, once you've seen a guy standing naked in a cornfield…" Lois joked. 

"Lois," Clark said, quietly, taking a chance and laying himself bare, "there's never been anyone else in my life like you. You're amazing, and wonderful – you're like this unstoppable force-"

He trailed off and looked up to see Lois looking at him, expectantly. Before she could say anything, Clark gathered his courage again and plowed on. He was going to say everything on his mind, for once, and she needed to hear it. She deserved to hear it. 

"I never imagined meeting anyone like you," he said. "And, now, I can't imagine my life without you."

"You said that you loved me," Lois said, seriously. "Do you mean it?"

Clark nodded, wordlessly, emotion choking the words in his throat. 

"Always," he forced out, hoarsely. "I just had to wake up and see what was in front of my face."

"Good," Lois said, smiling. "Then this'll work out just fine." 

"What will?" Clark asked, and then Lois was crossing the loft to stand in front of him. 

"Still scared?" she asked. 

"Terrified," Clark admitted, quietly. 

"Good," Lois repeated, winding her arms around Clark's neck. Going up on the balls of her feet, she kissed him. "If you're going to run," she told him, looking him square in the eye, "now would be the time."

"I'm not going anywhere," Clark promised. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and as he pulled her closer, his hands slipped under her shirt, brushing against her lower back. Instead of pulling away like he'd half-expected her to do, she moved even closer, one hand slipping down from the back of his neck to play with the buttons at his collar. Clark swallowed, nervously, when he realized that she'd undone the first three buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest. 

"What are you doing?" Clark asked, his voice rough. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Lois asked, a teasing smile on her face. "I'm seducing you."

"Well, it's working," Clark told her. 

He hated the way his voice shook when he spoke. He'd never been this nervous around a woman before; not even Lana had made him feel so unsettled. But then, Lois had always had that kind of effect on him. It had just never been this strong, before. 

"Stop thinking so much," Lois murmured into his ear, nipping at his earlobe to emphasize her point.

With a start, Clark realized that, while he'd been lost in his thoughts, Lois had gotten the rest of the buttons on his shirt undone. She ran her hands slowly up his chest, pushing at his shirt where it rested on his shoulders, and Clark dropped his arms from her waist to allow the shirt to fall to the floor. 

He reached for the hem of her shirt, to tug it over her head, but Lois stepped back slightly, and with a wicked grin, trailed her hands back down his chest to toy with his fly, sliding it down tantalizingly slowly. 

"You're killing me, here," Clark groaned, and Lois laughed. 

"That's the idea," she said, and her voice had a particular husky quality to it that Clark had never heard before. He decided that he needed to do whatever it took to hear her talk in that voice, again. 

"You know," he protested, weakly, "you could let me-"

"Nope," Lois cut him off midsentence, and there was that voice, again. "I'm running this show, Smallville."

"Oh, really?" Clark asked. "Well, I think-"

He never got the chance to finish his sentence because Lois pulled his head down suddenly with her free hand, capturing his mouth in a hard kiss. At the same time, Clark felt her pushing at his pants with her other hand and he helped her, stepping out of the tangled clothes and kicking them away as soon as possible. 

"This really isn't fair," Clark commented, breathlessly, as they parted. "You're still dressed."

"So, do something about it," Lois challenged him, playfully. 

Taking her at her word, Clark slid his hands under Lois's shirt, feeling her shiver as his hands trailed lightly up her sides. He snagged the hem of her shirt, drawing it up slowly over her head. Tossing her shirt aside to join his tangled pile of clothes, he traced a path down her back with his fingertips. 

Her bra, still held together by one tenuous hook, sprang apart when he tugged at it, and he slid the straps off her shoulders, letting the thin material fall to the ground. He kept his touch light as he trailed his hands back down to her waist and unbuttoned the clasp of her jeans. Hands at her waist, he gently steered Lois toward the couch she'd been sleeping on earlier. 

Lois went along willingly enough until they were standing right by the couch, and then a wicked gleam came into her eye as she hooked her foot around the back of his ankle and tugged, sending them both tumbling off balance. Clark twisted, instinctively, as they fell, and when they landed he was lying on his back with Lois straddling his hips. 

"Told you I was running this show," she said, smugly. 

"Got it," Clark said, his voice rough. "You like to be on top."

"You better believe it," Lois murmured, leaning down to kiss him. 

Her breasts brushed against his chest as she moved, and Clark reached up to cup one in his hand, brushing his thumb across her nipple. Lois jolted at his touch, as though shocked by the sensation. Encouraged by her reaction, Clark leaned forward and closed his mouth over her breast, scraping her nipple lightly with his teeth and following with a quick swipe of his tongue. 

As he sucked on her nipple, Lois's eyes rolled back in her head and she groaned, the sound coming from low in her throat. After a few seconds, Clark switched his attention to her other breast, and Lois shuddered, breathing hard. 

"Don't stop," she groaned, when Clark hesitated, just looking at her. 

"If you knew how many times over the past year that I've dreamed of this," Clark told her, and then he trailed off, unsure of how to go on. 

"Me, too," Lois replied, quietly, sincerely, meeting his earnest gaze with one of her own. 

Then, her somber expression was replaced with a playful one, and before Clark knew what was happening, she'd snaked her hand down inside his boxers. Clark let out a groan of his own when her fingers brushed against his dick, and then he lifted his hips when he felt her push impatiently at the hem of his boxers. She shoved his underwear down to his ankles, stripping out of her own jeans with the same efficiency, but when she went to pull her underwear off, Clark stopped her with a hand on her wrist. 

"Let me," he said, and then he slid the lacy panties down her hips with an agonizing slowness that had Lois glaring at him to hurry up. 

Running his hands back up her legs, Clark ran his fingers through the damp curls of hair at her groin. Slipping a finger inside, he watched as Lois let her head fall back, shuddering out a breath when he brushed against her clit. He rubbed the spot again, eliciting another groan from Lois. 

"My purse," she panted out, breathlessly. "In my wallet-" and Clark reached back with his free hand, groping blindly until he'd snagged the bag by the strap and dragged it over. 

Leaning down, Lois pulled her wallet out and rifled through it quickly until she pulled out a thin, silver square. 

"You've been planning this?" Clark asked, as Lois tore the package open and pulled the condom out. 

"Ever since Paris," Lois answered, and then she curled her fingers around Clark's dick, sliding the condom down over his shaft. 

Clark shifted on the couch as Lois braced herself on his chest, and then slid over him in one easy motion, sheathing him inside her. She shifted on his hips and Clark moved with her, watching a wave of emotion ripple across her face. He kept rolling his hips upward, matching her tentative movements until they had a steady rhythm going. 

Clark pushed himself up off the couch with a surge, capturing Lois's lips in a deep kiss that had her groaning. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she moved on him, gripping his hips with her thighs. Clark shifted again, trying to get into a better position and the movement had Lois's eyes rolling back in her head. 

Frustrated by the lack of space he had, Clark started floating, Lois still straddling his hips. Hovering in midair, he found himself with a much better position, and he thrust upward against Lois, who bore down on him with an equal intensity. Then, suddenly, she tightened around him with a gasp, and the world whited out behind Clark's eyes as he came. Breathing heavily, Lois relaxed against his chest, trusting him to hold them both up. 

"That was amazing," Lois purred, as she curled up on Clark's chest. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, running one hand up her back to stroke his fingers idly through her hair. He floated them back down toward the couch, snagging an old, red blanket off the back and draping it over them as they landed. 

"Wow," was all he could force out. 

Lois chuckled at his monosyllabic response, her fingers tracing patterns lightly over his chest. 

"I think you melted my brain," Clark said, when he could finally talk again. 

"My legs are all rubbery," Lois confided, with a laugh. 

Clark opened his mouth to say something, but froze when the dogs, who'd snuck downstairs, went into another frenzy of barking. He focused his hearing, and then blanched at the sound of a familiar engine. 

"Oliver," he said, quickly, and Lois's eyes went wide. 

"He's got the worst timing," she swore, rolling off the couch to grab for their pile of clothes. 

She tossed Clark's jeans at him, and he pulled them on quickly, watching Lois root around in the pile somewhat desperately. 

"I can't find my shirt," she told him. 

"Sherlock," Clark replied. "He thinks it's a game to steal clothes."

Lois shook her head in exasperation and pulled Clark's shirt on, buttoning the buttons quickly. Footsteps on the loft stairs had her scrambling to pull her jeans up, and Clark tossed the blanket back over the back of the couch as she jumped up to sit next to him. Then, Oliver came up into the loft, looking around suspiciously. 

"I tried calling but you weren't answering the phone," he said to Clark, and then his eyes fell on them sitting side by side on the couch. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Yes," Lois said, bluntly, and Oliver's eyebrows flew up. 

"Well," he said, slowly, drawing the word out as he took in their rumpled appearance and the state of the couch. "Good for you two. I'll be going now."

Backing up quickly, he started down the stairs again. 

"What did you want to talk about?" Clark called after him. 

"Not important!" Oliver called back up. "It can wait until you both come back to work."

The next thing they heard was the squealing of tires as Oliver peeled out of the driveway, and then Lois broke into a fit of laughter, Clark joining her. 

"I think we embarrassed him," she said, when she could talk again. "He's not going to be able to look either of us in the eye come Monday at work."

"About work," Clark said, hesitantly. 

"I think work was the one area where we weren't having any problems," Lois reminded him. 

"I didn't trust you to handle yourself in dangerous situations, and I'm sorry," Clark plowed on, relentlessly. "You’re my partner in every sense of the word, and that means knowing that you can take care of yourself."

"You weren't entirely wrong, though," Lois said, going back to their argument in Paris. "I don't need you to protect me; I can do that just fine on my own. But it's nice to know that I've got someone watching my back."

"So, we're good, then?" Clark asked. 

"I think we are," Lois replied. 

She'd just moved to snuggle against Clark's chest again when he cocked his head, listening to the wail of a siren in the distance. 

"What's wrong?" Lois asked, quietly, recognizing the look on his face. 

"Fire at an apartment complex down on Broadway," he told her. "There are people trapped inside the building."

"Let's go," Lois told him, jumping off the couch and pulling Clark up with her. 

"At least promise me you'll stay out of the burning building," Clark entreated, groaning when Lois only grinned at him. 

Zipping out of the loft, he sped into the house, grabbed a spare suit and spun into it. Then, dashing outside, he scooped up Lois from where she was walking down the stairs of the loft and soared into the sky, headed toward the city. 

"I make no promises," Lois said, picking up their earlier conversation. 

"Lois, the story is outside the burning building, not inside," Clark protested. 

"You don't know that," Lois said, and Clark shook his head in exasperation. 

"If I catch any arsonists, I promise to send them your way, how's that?" he said. 

Landing in the alley behind the building, they looked up at the flames consuming the upper floors. Clark could hear screams coming from inside the building. Darting inside, he flew from room to room, grabbing people as he found them and getting them outside where the ambulances were waiting. Then, with everyone out, he sped back inside to try and save what was left of the building. 

He'd just landed as gently as possible on the fifth floor, where the fire had started, when the whole structure beneath him collapsed. Before he had time to react, he found himself plunging straight down to the basement, buried beneath tons of rubble. The shock of hitting the ground had his vision swimming and his ears ringing, and when he could finally hear something other than the pounding of his heart in his chest, the first thing he heard was Lois's voice. 

"He's buried in there! Superman's still in there!"

"Lane!" And that was one of the firefighters from outside; Clark recognized the man's voice as someone he and Lois had worked with in the past. "Lane, if he's in there, he's got to get himself out. The rubble's way too hot for any of us to even get near."

"Get out of my way," Lois snarled, and the steely tone in her voice motivated Clark to move, pushing his way out of the wreckage before blood was shed. 

He shoved his way through the broken bricks and melted steel that had made up the building, ignoring the heat from the ruins that, even to him, felt searing. He could still hear Lois shouting at the firemen, but that only spurred him to move faster. Finally, he broke through, blinking involuntarily as the sudden sunlight blinded him. 

"Lois," he called out, zeroing in on her. "Lois, I'm fine."

At the sound of his voice, Lois whirled around, staring at him in silent shock. Then, very obviously resisting the urge to run over and strangle him, she walked very slowly over to the edge of the wreckage, waiting for him to come the rest of the way. 

"This partnership works both ways," she said, her voice low and intense. "If I have to promise to stay out of the burning buildings, you have to promise to come out of them. Got it?"

"Got it," Clark replied, quietly. "Do you have your story?"

"Yeah," Lois said, nodding. 

"Then let's go home," Clark said, and a smile broke out over her face. 

"Home sounds good," she told him.


End file.
